


We Can Hear you

by wayward_avenger



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 9/11, BAMF Peter Parker, Ben Parker - Freeform, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Man AU, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, September 11 Attacks, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, World trade center, if this subject triggers you please don't read, spider-man au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_avenger/pseuds/wayward_avenger
Summary: What would happen if Tony and Peter were there on the day of September 11th?





	We Can Hear you

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This fic contains depictions of real events of the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center. If these issues trigger you, please do not read. I, in no way, wrote this fic to be insensitive to the matter and tried to do the story justice. This fic was honestly a coping tool to deal with my 9/11 memories, as I was a child at the time.  
Important Notes:  
\- All of the characters/firefighters/brothers are based on real people. I took inspiration from the documentary "9/11" by the Naudet brothers.  
\- Peter can produce webs from his body, not cartridges.  
\- This takes place before any sort of alien invasion, so they aren't used to big things like this.
> 
> I know this topic can be controversial so I'm anxious to hear your thoughts.

“Alright, see you after school, Pete,” Tony said, slapping the kid’s back jovially.

“Where were you going today, Tony?” Peter asked. He knew his dad had a big meeting, but he just couldn’t remember where.

“World Trade Center, kid, South Tower. Big business meeting, remember?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s right,” Peter said, it now dawning on him.

“Are we still going to go patrolling today?” Peter asked.

“After school? Yeah, I’m pretty sure the meeting will be over by then. It’s first thing this morning. Well, come on, or we’ll both be late.” Tony finished as he walked with Peter out of the doors of Stark Tower.

Peter sat in first period Spanish, daydreaming out the window. It was such a beautiful day. It was only the second week of September so he wasn’t quite used to the school schedule yet. The last remnants of summer hung in the air like a playful tease. It would be a perfect day for patrolling. He was just thinking about the end of the day when a chill ran down his spine and his hair stood on edge. His eyes flashed white as the lights became blinding. His spider sense was going haywire. Peter knew immediately that this was going to be bad, but he couldn’t imagine why his senses were going off so strongly.

He gasped as he forced his head down on the desk, breathing heavily. It was too much.

“Dude, you ok?” he heart Ned whisper next to him.

“Senses. Going…crazy,” Peter gasped.

“Go to the bathroom,” Ned suggested. The nurse couldn’t do anything for this. It was always best for Peter to just ride the episodes out when they came. He raised his hand into the air.

“Sí, Señor Parker?” Señora Reyes asked briskly.

“May I use the bathroom?” Peter gasped. The teacher raised her eyebrows.

“Necesitas hacer tu pregunta en Español, Señor Parker,” she stated simply.

Damn it. He didn’t need this. His teacher made them all speak Spanish as soon as they entered the room. Anything in English was treated as if it were not said at all.

“Uhh, puedo ir al baño, por favor,” he choked out.

“Sí, Señor Parker. Tú acento es muy bueno,” she praised.

“Gracias, Señora,” he said weakly, clutching his stomach now as he ran from the room. After five minutes, Ned began to worry. He raised his hand as well.

“Sî, Señor Leeds?” Señora Reyes asked this time.

“Um…” Ned racked his brain, “Puedo ir al baño para ver si Peter esta bien? Tiene un dolor de estomago esta mañana” he said slowly.

The teacher sighed, “Sí, pero rapidamente.” She waved him off.

Ned ran out of the room and into the bathroom down the hall to find Peter sitting on the ground clutching his head.

“Peter, are you ok?” Ned asked worriedly.

“It’s my senses. I don’t know what they’re doing. They’re just going haywire for whatever reason. Before Ned could say anything else, their attention was brought to commotion outside the bathroom door. They could hear running and urgent whispers. Ned helped Peter stand as they both walked out into the hallway. The art teacher was running down the hall, opening doors and saying something quickly to the teachers inside. As she got closer, they saw her go into the library and say, “Turn on the TV. Now.” Before the librarian could as any questions, she was gone. Peter and Ned walked slowly into the library. Miss Bennett was standing in front of one of the extra TVs on a cart that were kept in the library for use. Her back was rigid and Peter could see the crackling picture of something…horrible on the TV.

“Ms. Bennett,” Peter said, his voice cautious and scared, “What…what is that? What’s happening?”

She quickly turned around to face the two boys, her face pure white. “Boys, you shouldn’t be here. You need to be in your classrooms. Now,” she exclaimed in a frantic whisper. Peter ignored her, stepping in front of the TV. The banner on the bottom of the TV read, “World Trade Center, New York”. The tower was a large plume of smoke. He stepped forward more until he was a foot away from the screen.

“What you’re looking at is what is a very disturbing image of the World Trade Center. We are getting unconfirmed reports that a plane has struck the side of the North Tower. CNN is currently calling their sources to get to the root of the story to see exactly what has happened…” the faceless news anchor was saying. Peter backed away, his eyes wide. He turned to Ned, who also wore an expression of blank horror on his face.

“Peter…” he breathed.

“Ned,” Peter said quickly, his face getting hot. “Tony had a meeting in the South Tower this morning! Ned, my dad is in the building next door! I have to go!”

“Peter, no! We have to stay here! It’s dangerous!” Ned pleaded, knowing that his words were useless.

“I’m sorry, Ned,” Peter said as he sprinted out the door.

“Peter!” Ned yelled after him, to no avail.

Peter swung quickly from building to building, racing to get to the World Trade Center. He had activated his suit as he had sprinted out the doors of the school. Suddenly, he heard the phone patch through his intercom. It was Tony.

“Tony!” Peter gasped.

“Peter. I know you saw. Do NOT come down here, do you understand?” Tony said frantically.

“Tony! Are you insane? I’m already on my way. You need to get out of there! You need to get to safety!” Peter could see the towers in sight now, the smoke worse than the television had depicted. A shiver jolted through his body as his senses screamed once more.

“Peter, get out of here! Go back to the tower!”

“Tony, I’m not leaving you he-“ Peter’s voice was cut off as he dropped to the ground as a plane flew a thousand feet above him, headed straight for the South Tower.

“DAD! Get out now!” he screamed as the second plane crashed into the side of the South Tower.

Peter’s scream died in his throat as the tower exploded. Without thinking, his body was scaling him up a building next to the tower and onto its roof. He felt bile rise up in his throat as he stared at the towers in flames. Suddenly, he saw a red rocket shoot out of an upper window above the smoke. It was Tony.

“Dad!” Peter shrieked. Tony sped towards him, landing quickly and disengaging his helmet.

“Pete, god, I told you to stay at school!” Tony cried as he pulled Peter into a hug. Peter felt the first of many tears run down his face as he looked up into the worried face of his father.

“Dad, what’s happening? What do we do?” Peter said. “The workers…we need to help them.”

“And there’s no point in telling you to leave?” Tony asked dryly.

Peter shook his head stiffly, “Who would I be if I left? Ben didn’t die for me to turn my back on his city…our city.”

Tony placed his hands on either side of the boy’s face. A face he loved more than anything in this world. “Alright, Peter, but you do as I say, do you understand me? This isn’t rescuing kittens from a tree. If something starts to go south, get out _immediately_. If I say go, you go. If I say leave me, you _leave me_. Do you understand?”

Peter stared, mouth open.

“_Do you understand_?” Tony said more firmly. Peter closed his mouth and nodded.

“Alright. We need to work out a plan. The ones most in danger are going to be the ones above the crash. The stairs will be destroyed. The ones below will still need help but they should still be able to get down the stairs.”

“I can make a web connecting this building to the tower…like a bridge. I’ll do it for each floor and they can crawl over.”

“Pete, we’re more than ninety stories up…are you sure? If someone fell…” Tony looked uneasy.

“I’ll make them for each building. You can monitor North tower and I’ll monitor south. We can both make sure they get out ok. The firefighters and first responders can help the ones down below.

“Ok, kid. I trust you. Start over at North Tower. That was hit first and will probably be less stable. I’ll fly you over, you can web up, I’ll stay behind there and you move over to South Tower. As Peter began to feel the immediacy of the plan he had created, his face began to prickle as his stomach gave a lurch. He tried taking a series of deep breaths, not unnoticed by Tony.

“Peter. I know you’re terrified. You’re sixteen. You’re allowed to be terrified. I am and so is the whole country is right now. You can do this. I believe in you… I believe in us,” Tony said, grabbing Peter’s shoulder. Peter nodded, his face set, even though his heart was beating wildly inside of his chest.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said. A second later, Tony had grabbed Peter around the waist as they flew towards North Tower.

Tony flew around North Tower, but did not drop Peter anywhere.

“Tony…” Peter said slowly.

Tony seemed to know what he was thinking, “Yeah, I realized that too.”

The just now realized that the Twin Towers were _tall_. _Too tall_.

“Tony…we’re going to have to go to buildings further away. The height difference between the buildings is too steep. They’ll plummet to the ground. I can’t jump that far though.

“I’ll carry you, Pete,” Tony said immediately. “Start webbing across and I’ll carry you down to the safest building.

“Tony, there’s no time! We need to get these people out quickly!”

“We’re just going to have to do out best, aren’t we? Come on, we ‘re wasting time already,” Tony said as he flew towards the lower part of the explosion. The smoke was rising, so it wasn’t as bad at floor level. Still, Peter began to cough as the smoke permeated through his suit, which was not equipped enough to ventilate this level of smoke.

“Come on kid, I’m going to hold you horizontally. Web towards the top of the hole…across the whole building. Suddenly, Tony’s voice boomed from behind the mask, “Everyone in North tower above the crash, head to the North side of the building. We are making a bridge to travel across to an adjacent building. Quickly!”

Tony was flying Peter left and then right while slowly moving backwards to a building about four buildings away. It provided a small enough decline that workers would not slide down too quickly. Tony could feel Peter gasping with the energy of expending so much webbing from his body. The boy, however, quickly made a strong, dense, spider web bridge stretching across the whole side of the North Tower. Tony’s voice boomed once again at the workers now hanging out of the windows, many of them screaming or crying.

“Start to make your way down the bridge. It will hold you, I promise. We are making a bridge for South Tower and will be back to assist you. Please, hurry,” he finished.

Tony quickly flew Peter around to the South Tower where even more yelling was taking place. He could feel Peter trembling.

“Ok kid, just focus on your web. Don’t look at anything else, please,” Tony implored. Peter seemed to understand because he instantly began to web the other side of the building, making an identical bridge to a building about five blocks away. When he was finished, Tony set Peter down on the roof across from South Tower.

“Alright, Peter, I’m going to go back over to North Tower. I need to hurry because it may fall first. Just focus on getting the people out and onto the bridge. Stay in contact the entire time, do you hear me?”

Peter nodded, quickly throwing his arms around his father.

“Dad, please be safe,” he whispered.

“You too, Pete. Remember, _whatever I tell you to do_,” Tony said firmly, reminding Peter of his promise. Peter nodded as Tony sped off. Instead of flying back to the crash site of North Tower, he sped quickly down to the ground and into the lobby, where about 30 firefighters were frantically shouting instructions and messages to each other. Having worked with some of the firefighters throughout the years, he recognized Chief Joseph Pfeifer of Ladder 1. He hastened over, lowering his faceplate for a moment to look into the man’s eyes.

“Tony, what-” the chief began, but Tony cut him off.

“Chief, Spiderman and I are working on getting people out of the floors above the crash site. Focus on what’s below.”

The chief looked as though he wanted to respond, but with a locked jaw, he nodded and placed a quick hand on Tony’s shoulder before Tony sped off to the upper floors outside.

____________________

Peter scaled the bridge quickly, reaching the side of the building. The smoke was thicker here, but Peter’s lenses helped filter out some of the smoke so he could see the people inside. Peter’s stomach turned over. About ten floors worth of building was in flames. He looked away with a dry sob as he saw some of the people inside. They had most likely died as soon as the plane hit. There were people above him, hanging out of the windows, screaming for him to help them. He swung up a few stories and met the people on those floors. Faced with this new responsibility, he felt his mind clear a bit.

“Alright, everyone! I know the bridge is a little lower than you’d like, but those in the middle of the building are going to have to jump down. Those on the sides of the building, I’ll make tightropes to slide down towards the center. The web is smooth enough to slide with your hands, but you can also use a shirt or towel to slide down towards the middle of the bridge. Look out for each other. I need to go to the other floors!”

He repeated the process on each sequential floor, his explanations getting shorter and shorter. Towards the middle of the section he was clearing, he swung into a building an dashed through the offices towards the main atrium that connected the entire building.

“EVERYONE IN HERE! THERE IS AN EXIT ON THE SOUTH SIDE. I NEED YOU TO MAKE YOUR WAY OVER TO THAT SIDE,” he bellowed as loud as he could. It worked, for immediately, crowds of scared workers came bursting through the atrium over to the South side of the building.

“THOSE ON THE TOP FLOORS, I AM COMING TO HELP GET YOU LOWER,” he yelled again. This time, he opted to scale up the inside of the building, trying not to panic over the rising smoke from the floors below. He crashed through a top window and began shooting tightropes down to the bridge below. Whenever he reached a floor, what seemed like hundreds of workers were there, frantically waiting to get out.

“When you slide down through the smoke, hold your breath and close your eyes. The bridge below is a bit rougher so you will gain traction once you land, ok?” He looked up into the face of a girl who couldn’t be older than twenty-five. She was crying hysterically.

“Hey hey hey! Look at me! You’re going to be alright, I promise!” he tried to tell her. She only continued to cry harder, seeming to shrink in on herself in panic.

“Hey! What’s your name?” he tried.

“J-Jessica,” she stammered.

“Ok, Jessica, you gotta help me, ok? I need you to help me be a demonstration for everyone, ok? I’m going to get you out of here. We’re going to be brave together, ok?”

Jessica nodded and she and Peter headed over to the window.

“Ok, Jessica? I need you to grab your opposite elbows and make a hook with your arms ok? Here, put it over this web. It’s smooth so you’ll glide down. I need you to trust me, ok? Close your eyes if you have to. The people who have already gotten down will catch you. Got it?” he said as Jessica linked her arms around the web.

“You’re going to be ok,” he said. “I need you to jump, _now_,” he called as she leapt off the side of the window with a scream. She glided down to the main bridge as those who were exiting on lower levels without tightropes caught her.

“Yes!” Peter shouted, in spite of himself. Jessica waved, still sobbing, as she turned to slide/crawl down the bridge.

Peter helped the next few workers maneuver down the web-rope, and then moved up the floors to help the others.

He couldn’t deny that the smoke was beginning to get to him. His breath came in sharp wheezing gasps as he coughed on the acrid air.

“Hey Peter, you doing alright?” Tony’s voice came through his comm.

“Y-yeah, Dad. It’s slow work, but it’s working. Are you ok?” Peter asked.

“I’m ok, kid. Person by person,” Tony said, his voice sounding strained and anxious.

“Person by person,” Peter agreed, feeling the desperation in Tony’s voice.

Suddenly, Peter’s senses sent the hairs on his arms reaching towards the cloudy sky.

“T-tony?” Peter said, worriedly.

“Peter? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I-I think something’s wrong,” Peter said, his skin prickling.

Hundred’s of feet away, Tony froze, looking at the South Tower. He began to hear a distant creaking and groaning of metal…

“Peter, get out of there!” Tony yelled through his comm.

“Tony, I- TONY!” Peter screamed suddenly, “No no no no NO, STOP! DON’T!”

“Peter, what’s happening?” Tony demanded, panic lacing his voice. Around the building, he could see a figure…no. A figure was falling from the building and he saw Peter falling after him/her.

He saw Peter desperately try to shoot webs at the person, but they both became clouded by the smoke that now began to arise as the building began to fall.

“No,” Tony whispered, mostly to himself. This was his home. His city. His mind seemed to be running in slow motion. It was disconcerting, seeing as how his mind always seemed to go too fast. This couldn’t be happening. He felt his breath quicken and his chest tighten.

_Not now, Tony. Not now._

A voice pulled him out of his stupor.

“DAD!” Peter’s voice sobbed.

“Peter, where are you?” Tony cried, still trying to help people out of the building.

“I’m…I’m on the ground. Dad, the building is falling.” Peter sounded shocked, almost numb.

“Peter, I need you to run. Get out of here! Find someplace safe. I’ll find you, I swear.” Tony begged.

“D-dad, a woman. She…she fell. I couldn’t save her. I-I couldn’t see!” Peter seemed like he was trying to justify his himself. Tony shook his head.

“Peter…it wasn’t your fault.”

“She- she jumped, Tony. More people are j-jumping,” Peter whispered as Tony felt his blood run cold. This was a conversation for a different time.

“Peter, I need you to get out of there. Get as far away as possible, do you understand me? Remember your promise,” Tony instructed.

Three hundred feet away, Peter was began to run, but stopped in his tracks. His skin had begun to prickle. He felt a trembling underneath his feet.

“Tony! TONY, RUN. The North Tower is about to collapse,” Peter screamed.

“Peter, what-how do you know?” Tony said, shocked.

“Dad, get out of there!” Peter begged as he heard, for the second time, the sound of groaning metal.

“Peter, RUN! Get out of he-” Tony yelled as his comm suddenly crackled and died.

“DAD!” Peter screamed.

Keeping Tony’s words like a hymn in his heart, he ran. Weak and exhausted, his webbing spun out feebly as he gave up trying to web to buildings. He stopped a few blocks away from the towers and looked back. People were running towards him, their faces panicked and terrified. Peter suddenly found that he couldn’t move. His face was turned up to North Tower as he watched the second building begin to collapse. He stared in shock and horror as he began to stumble backward, dust and debris beginning to rain down around them. He found a moment of clarity.

“Everyone, run!” he said weakly. Suddenly, he felt a piece of metal tear against his face, ripping his mask and cutting deep into his skin. He yelped in agony as his mouth became uncovered. Without the small protection from his mask, he immediately inhaled a large mouthful of smoke and dust, leaving him spluttering and gasping on the ground. He crawled over to a nearby shop entrance as he huddled in the corner, underneath the door’s small awning. His legs wouldn’t move. Shock, pain, and exhaustion kept him crouching there, his hands covering his head. Suddenly, he felt a rhythmic clanking of metal as he felt something strong lift him up by his elbows.

“Peter! Pete, come on, kid, we have to run. Come on, move your feet! Now!”

Peter felt something between a sob and a laugh of relief escape his lips as he realized that Tony had run up next to him. He let himself be led down the street, his eyes closed, but streaming from dust and debris.

“Why…can’t…you fly,” Peter gasped.

“Boots damaged when the tower fell,” Tony replied simply, still running with an arm around Peter’s torso. “Keep running, kid, one foot in front of the other.”

They ran for what seemed like hours, even though it was probably less than one hour.

Soon, Peter felt himself being led into progressively cleaner air and then shepherded into a building wrought with a dull commotion.

As soon as Peter felt himself being slowed down, he immediately collapsed onto smooth ground. He felt Tony leave his side momentarily as he struggled for breath, his lungs beginning to cough up black mucus. He felt a hand rest gently but firmly underneath his head as a mask was placed over his mouth and cold air began flowing into his lungs. He arched his back in relief as he took easier breaths, but still coughing weakly under the mask.

“Easy, kid,” he heard Tony say, his voice low and troubled.

“T’ny, d’n’t feel g’d,” Peter mumbled after about five minutes as he groaned and turned over on his side. Immediately, he felt his upper torso being lifted up and the mask removed as he vomited into a bucket that was shoved underneath of him. It was unlike anything he had ever vomited before. It scratched his throat as he felt, (was that rocks?) come up with stomach acid. It left a horrible after taste of soot and metal. His whole body was shaking as he was glided up to sit with his back against a wall. The mask was placed over his face once more, but then water was being poured slowly over his eyes as a fingers brushed over his eyelids. He let the person do whatever they were doing, taking the time to try and breathe.

“Peter, can you open your eyes?” he heard Tony say. Only the relief of knowing Tony was with him could have motivated the boy to open his eyes. He looked up into the face of his father, his dark eyes hidden in concern.

“D-dad,” Peter gasped, sliding sideways and attempting to close his eyes once more.

“Peter, are you ok? Tell me, what’s wrong?” he heard Tony ask frantically as he felt something dry being pressed against his bleeding face. He tried to inch away as the cut burned, but Tony grabbed his head, shushing him gently. “Pete, you’re shaking.”

“M-my webs. Ran out,” Peter mumbled weakly.

“What do you mean, kiddo,” Tony asked confused.

“N’more. Webbed to much. Th’r’gon’” Peter said, his eyes closed. “See?” Peter extended his wrist to shoot a web, but nothing came out. He could feel tears springing to the corners of his eyes in frustration. He had never felt so weak and powerless. He felt Tony’s hand gently cover his wrist.

“Hey, hey, Peter,” Tony said soothingly. “You just overexerted yourself. You did amazing. The bridges were incredible. I’m honestly not surprised your body is forcing you to stop. We’ll worry about that later, ok? Just focus on resting right now.” Peter continued to weep feebly as he nodded. The screams and crashes were returning to the forefront of his mind’s eye.

“Face feels f’nny,” he said, feeling somewhat sick again. Suddenly, he sensed a firefighter come over to them and crouch down next to them.

“Can you lift his head?” he heard the fireman say. “It’s mostly likely blood sugar, especially for a kid.”

Peter felt his head being lifted as a cup was placed against his lips. A stream of orange juice ran down his throat as he coughed slightly. He didn’t understand. He was used to things like candy and soda, yet when he swallowed the juice, it was like a shock to his taste buds. He could nearly feel the sugar inching its way to every part of his body. He drank greedily after this revelation. The cup soon ran out and he opened his eyes, looking into the face of an older man. He had kind, yet sad eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, breathless as his eyes closed.

He couldn’t distinguish anything that the man may have said, but he then heard murmuring above him as he felt the cloth on his head being taken away and Tony’s presence leaving. He opened his eyes as he saw a blond haired women crouching down in front of him, a large syringe in her hand, full of what looked like clear liquid.

She spoke in a quiet, soft voice, “Peter, your dad told me that your cut will heal on its own, but I want to clean it out before it gets infected, ok?”

Peter looked frantically around and found Tony on his left, holding his hand.

“It’s ok, Pete, she’s going to help us get patched up.”

“Where are we?” Peter asked, exhausted.

“Ladder 1, NYFD,” Tony replied. Peter looked around. All around them were about fifteen firemen, all in different states of disarray.

“Peter, can you tilt your head back for me? I’m sorry, but this may sting a little,” the woman asked softly. Peter realized she must be some sort of medic with the NYFD and tilted his head back, Tony’s hand slipping behind his head to support it.

She began to stream the saline solution from the syringe into the gash on his face. The saline pierced the nerve endings in his broken skin as he closed his eyes and gave a hum of discomfort, breathing heavily. He heard murmurings from Tony beside him, but his mind had begun to wander. He felt himself being leaned back onto a sort of cot as the saline was replaced by a piece of cloth, staunching the flow of liquid. He felt his breath quicken as something cold was placed against his chest.

“His pulse is erratic,” he heard the women mutter to Tony as he felt Tony move closer beside Peter.

“Peter, bud, I need you to breathe for me, ok?” Tony said as Peter felt the oxygen mask slip over his face again as he struggled to bring in air.

“D’n’t…leave…me,” he panted.

“I’m not going anywhere, Pete,” he heard vaguely as he felt himself slip into darkness.

_____________________

_Smoke._

_Jessica. Crying._

_The body falling._

_A man…on fire._

_Smoke._

_Flames._

_The plane._

_The _planes_._

_The towers._

_The smoke._

_The dust._

_The screams._

_The people._

_The panic._

_The smoke. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to suffocate. He was going to die today. He couldn’t even see his last glimpse of the concrete jungle._

“Kid!” he heard a voice call. He didn’t recognize it.

“Kid, hey, kid, wake up,” he heard again, now feeling someone shaking his shoulders. He heard footsteps then.

“Peter! Peter, wake up, come on,” he heard. This voice he knew. Familiar. Safe.

He woke up with a gasp and a cough, trying desperately to bring air into his lungs.

“Breathe, Pete, just breathe. You’re ok. You’re safe,” Peter looked up into Tony’s eyes. The man looked sad and concerned, but older, like he had aged years in the past day. Still, he carried the same gentle expression that he always did when Peter was in pain or scared.

“T-Tony,” he gasped, closing his eyes, trying to get his bearings. “I was down there again.”

“I know, Pete,” Tony said, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Peter turned to look at the body of the unfamiliar voice. It was a middle aged, mustached man, also looking sad and concerned.

“Who are you?” Peter asked, somewhat bluntly.

“Chief Joseph Pfeifer,” the main stated simply. “I’m chief here.”

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, Chief Pfeifer,” Peter said awkwardly, still trying to catch his breath.

“No trouble, kid. You alright?” Chief Pfeifer asked intently.

“I think so. Where are we?” he said, turning to Tony.

“Just upstairs. Still at the station. You were sleeping so I asked the chief here if we could bunk here for the night,” Tony said, placing a hand on the chief’s shoulder.

“Feel dizzy…a little sick,” Peter suddenly stammered. It was true. A wave of nausea had just hit him like a freight train as the room swam around him.

“Come on, kid, you need some food. I should have had you eat something before you took your little siesta. I’m sorry, your metabolism is probably going nuts right now. I gotta thank Dennis for that OJ or else you might have gone into shock.”

Tony helped Peter stand up from his cot, but as soon as Peter was upright, he swayed and his knees gave way, causing Chief Pfeifer to steady his other arm.

“Come on, let’s bring him to the kitchen where we were,” the chief murmured.

Peter felt himself being led through a doorway and into another, the room inside brighter than the one in which he had awoken. There were six other firefighters sitting in this larger room, some holding cups of coffee, others staring at the television. He saw the man who had given him the orange juice earlier. The man gave Peter a small smile that Peter tried to return. There were also two men who looked different than the rest of native New Yorkers sitting around the table. They sat close to each other at the table. They had dark hair and dark eyes. One of the men’s eyes were very bloodshot. Peter wasn’t in the mood to play detective, but their features were similar, as if they were brothers. They all looked up as Tony, Peter, and the chief entered. Any murmurs were silenced as they took in Peter’s appearance. Peter was placed in a chair and was beginning to wonder why they were all staring at him until he looked down and saw he was in his Spiderman suit…and no mask.

“Shit,” he whispered mostly to himself. He pulled his head around to look at Tony who was coming back with some soup, placing it in front of Peter.

“Tony, my mask,” he whispered frantically to his father, despite his bone deep exhaustion.

“Hey, kid, don’t worry about it. You’re one of us now. We won’t tell,” a young firefighter said seriously with a small smile. “We just didn’t expect you to be so young. Thank you for everything today.”

Peter stared in disbelief. “Me? Why are you thanking me? Thank _you!_ You all put your life on the line today. I can’t even imagine.”

Next to him, he heard Tony laugh exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his two fingers and shaking his head.

“Damn, you were right, Stark, this kid’s got a morality complex alright!” another firefighter said, slightly older than the first firefighter.

“Peter, you _did_ put your life on the line. Early estimates are saying that because of your bridges, we got about two hundred people out in each building.

“Oh,” Peter said meekly, suddenly very interested in the soup in front of him. He took a bite and immediately felt some strength returning to his body. His trembling hands began to calm somewhat.

He looked back at the two firefighters who had addressed him. They were still looking at him closely.

“James. James Hanlon. Nice to meet you, kid,” the second firefighter said, extending his hand across the table to Peter. Peter shook it.

“Antonios Benatatos. Call me Tony. Or Benatatos. Whatever,” the younger firefighter said, also holding out his hand to Peter.

“Where you from, kid?” Tony Benatatos asked, leaning back with a sigh.

“Queens, originally,” Peter said tentatively, looking at Tony, who nodded encouragingly. “But I live with my dad at Stark Tower here in Manhattan.”

“You got guts, Queens,” James said, somewhat solemnly. “New York is lucky to have you.”

“You too,” Peter replied with a small smile, which James returned.

“You are very brave, Peter,” the dark haired man with the bloodshot eyes said quietly in a thick accent. Peter turned to him. From what Peter could tell sitting down, he was tall and skinny.

“Gédion Naudet,” the man said, holding out a hand. “This is my brother Jules.” The other man smiled down the table at Peter.

“Are you from New York?” Peter asked.

“Not originally. We are from France. We moved here when we were teenagers.”

Jules spoke up, also with a thick French accent, “We are not firefighters. We are filmmakers. We came here a few months ago to make a documentary on Benatatos here, who is a new firefighter. We wanted to film the journey of a firefighter.” He paused, looking down and then to his brother, “Things obviously did not go as we expected them to.”

“Are you alright, Peter?” the fireman who had given him the juice asked, looking concerned.

“I’m ok…thanks for the orange juice earlier,” Peter said shyly.

“I know low blood sugar when I see it, kid. Not a problem at all. I’m Dennis Tardio. You can call me Dennis,” he said kindly, holding out a hand that Peter shook.

Peter didn’t know what to say, so he turned back to his soup. After a few moments, his eyes turned to the TV in the corner, where more firefighters were grouped. Suddenly, an image made him stand up and walk slowly over to get a closer look.

“That’s Father Judge,” Peter said simply. The TV showed a horrible sight of five men carrying the body of an old man out of the rubble.

“Who?” Tony asked, coming to stand next to his son.

“Father Mychal Judge. He’s a priest. Ben used to take me to some of his masses when…” Peter paused, then redirected, “He’s the NYFD chaplain.” He finished, realizing that the sentence now read as “_was_ the NYFD chaplain.” His face felt suddenly hot as the images of the burning towers returned to the screen. He suddenly felt sick again, but not from lack of food. Mumbling a quiet “excuse me,” he raced out of the room and down the stairs. _Breathe, Peter. Breathe_, one side of his mind said. The other, however, was flailing.

_This can’t be happening. This can’t be New York right now. _

He burst through the doors of the station, stepping in to the night air. In the distance he saw floodlights illuminating the still smoking remains of the Twin Towers. The sky, which had been so blue this morning, was now a deep blue-black in night, but also speckled with remnants of smoke in the distance. He looked up in the direction of where the towers had stood and he felt his eyes fill with tears. He felt a hand across his back.

“You ok, Pete?” Tony asked. Unable to speak, Peter shook his head. Tony quickly pulled his son into his chest, where the boy began to cry.

“Dad, how could this happen?” Peter whimpered, his voice muffled into Tony’s shirt. “This is our home.”

“I know, kid,” Tony replied. “I don’t know why this happened today. I just don’t.” Tony pushed Peter gently away from him, looking into his face and holding on to his shoulders.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we’re going to be ok. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, or next month, or even next year, but we’ll be ok. We’ll rebuild.”

And, standing in the night air with Tony, Peter found that, because he wanted to believe his father so badly, that was enough for now. It had to be enough.


End file.
